


The Last on Your Path

by fred_mouse, the_rck



Category: The Pretender (TV)
Genre: Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Pivot point, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, seeing things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-05 11:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11577573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fred_mouse/pseuds/fred_mouse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/pseuds/the_rck
Summary: Sydney's seeing things he knows can't be real. Eventually, he has to listen anyway.Contains both text and podfic.Story by the_rck. Podfic by fred_mouse.





	The Last on Your Path

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The Phoenix" by Paul Eluard.
> 
> Thanks to Doranwen for brainstorming help.

**The Last on Your Path**  
Written by the_rck  
Read by fred_mouse

[Download as an mp3.](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2017/the%20last%20on%20your%20path%20-%20the_rck%20fred_mouse.mp3)

Sydney was used to ghosts. There was no way that someone with his background wouldn’t be constantly aware of the dead, constantly in their company and under their eyes. But he knew that those ‘ghosts’ were his own memories, his survivor’s guilt. When he died, they would not linger to haunt anyone else.

So having the feeling that Catherine Parker was watching him was nothing new, and feeling Jacob’s presence after he finally died was simply to be expected. Actually seeing either of them-- That had never happened before. He’d thought, at first, that Miss Parker was playing some sort of trick on him and dressing up as her mother, but then he’d seen them both at the same time when Miss Parker stopped by briefly to give him some of Jarod’s papers. Miss Parker hadn’t noticed anything.

And nothing Miss Parker could have done would have led to Sydney seeing Jacob, looking young again, sitting across the table from him at breakfast. Jacob didn’t say anything, didn’t move at all, so Sydney wasn’t entirely sure, after Jacob was gone, that his brother had been there at all.

After the third time he saw Jacob, he found an opportunity to see a doctor in Chicago who had-- he hoped-- no ties to The Centre. He suspected that, once he was no longer reliable in pursuing Jarod, some rather unpleasant things were likely to happen to him. He wasn’t certain that a threat against him would pull Jarod in, but it might, and Mr Parker and Raines wouldn’t hesitate.

It might also make Jarod burn everything to the ground and salt the earth, but the people higher up at The Centre didn’t seem to realize that. Even Miss Parker didn’t see it, but Sydney was pretty sure that Broots did. 

The vicious creativity in Jarod’s revenge plots was an obvious warning to anyone who paid attention.

Dr Leibowitz’s eyes widened slightly when he saw Sydney’s arm, and, though he didn’t comment directly, his manner changed.

It took Sydney a moment to understand. He met the other, much younger man’s eyes and said, “It was a long time ago.”

Dr Liebowitz returned the smile with a sympathetic look. “It’s hard when the other people who remember are gone.”

Since Sydney had mentioned his twin’s recent death as a potential stressor in his life, he wasn’t entirely surprised at the doctor connecting those dots. “Neither of us ever married,” he said. “I’m not sure we were… willing to risk it, but it means--” He shrugged. He wasn’t quite willing to lie, but he didn’t want to explain that he’d lost Jacob a long time before and hadn’t really noticed it.

He should have noticed it. He should have guessed. He’d had enough clues, hints, and suspicions that, if he’d given them to Jarod, Jarod would have told him. That Sydney hadn’t certainly hadn’t been to protect Jarod.

At any rate, Dr Liebowitz assured Sydney that he was healthy for his age and recommended exercise and community involvement as a way to deal with his very understandable reaction to the recent loss of his brother. “Perhaps a pet as well? Walking a dog can be excellent, regular exercise.” That last suggestion was more tentative than what had gone before.

Sydney had let the doctor believe that he was retired because he hadn’t wanted to name his employer, so it made sense that Dr Liebowitz might have concluded that, in addition to being bereaved, Sydney was isolated and disconnected. Sydney smiled and promised to consider it.

He felt so much relief on leaving the office that he concluded that the visit had been unwise. If his mind was beginning to go, Dr Liebowitz couldn’t have diagnosed the problem because Sydney hadn’t told him why he was there, just something vague about tiredness and difficulty sleeping, and had lied about almost everything else.

But, when Sydney returned home, he found a third ghost waiting for him in his living room-- Jarod’s younger brother, Kyle.

Sydney stood in the doorway and stared.

Kyle smiled sharply then spread his hands to show that they were empty. “I’m not convinced, but the others say-- They think you’re worth saving.”

Sydney blinked. He couldn’t recall having interacted much with Kyle, so if this was some sort of delusion produced by an aging brain, his psyche had very little to build on. He didn’t respond for several seconds. Then, instead of speaking, he crossed the room and seated himself in his favorite chair.

Kyle sat on the arm of the sofa that no one ever used. His eyes remained fixed on Sydney with little flickers of movement that suggested that Kyle was considering ways in which Sydney could die. After a moment, Kyle frowned. “Jarod still needs you.” He sounded disappointed. “You do realize that, if you fuck him over, I will find a way to kill you? No matter what anyone else says.”

Sydney sighed. “It’s not my intention.” He looked at the empty fireplace. “Not that I’m the best judge of that. I think Jarod may be the only one who thinks I ever was.” Saying that out loud hurt because he’d never admitted it so openly before. He stood and crossed to the cabinet where he kept his small supply of alcohol.

As he opened the cabinet, he glanced at Kyle. “I don’t suppose you’d like something?” He couldn’t think how Kyle’s death could have been faked, but that made more sense than the idea of a ghost.

Kyle laughed. “I tried alcohol a few times. Other people seemed to think it helped with--” He waved a hand to indicate everything. “I hated it. Why do people want something that takes away their control?”

The question struck Sydney as sincere, so he paused in pouring himself two fingers of scotch and answered as he would Jarod. “People who drink that way can use it to forget all of the things they already can’t control.” He pressed his lips together for a moment. Then he sighed. “You might have found it more attractive when you were… living at The Centre. Not that anyone there would have given you any. The dosage is imprecise, and the results can be… unpredictable.”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed for a moment. Then he smiled. “Does _she_ drink to forget?”

Sydney didn’t have to ask who Kyle meant. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Almost certainly.” The words were barely audible, but Sydney was sure that Kyle hadn’t missed them. “But you already knew that.”

Kyle continued smiling. “I wasn’t sure you did.”

Sydney considered whether he was going to need more alcohol than he’d already poured. He capped the bottle and put it back. He looked at his glass, picked it up, then put it down again. “I don’t suppose it matters if you’re real,” he told Kyle. “Either way, you’re going to push me off the tightrope.”

“Even Jarod hasn’t managed that.” Kyle’s tone was beyond bitter. “What makes you think that I could?”

“Jarod hasn’t actually tried.” For a moment, Sydney was seeing Jarod’s face the last time they’d met. “He’s too afraid I’ll come down on the wrong side.” He lifted his glass and downed the contents. It was a terrible waste of a good scotch, but right then, he needed it.

“Maybe he just thinks you might do what you should and make him get the hell out of the dumpster fire that is The Centre.”

Sydney forced a laugh. “You’re overstating my power. He’s still convinced there are answers there.”

“We both know there are.” Kyle stood and started pacing. “We both also know that the best ways for him to get those answers would put you-- and her-- in the line of fire. He wants too many different things to be able to get any of them.” He stopped, turned to face Sydney, and fixed his eyes on Sydney’s face. “You’re not the only one who needs a damned hard push.”

Sydney poured himself more scotch but didn’t pick up the glass. “I-- we-- always knew our parents were dead. We saw what happened after the Germans found the airman in our barn. I’m not sure either of us could have given up on finding them if we thought they might be alive.” He looked at Kyle directly for a moment then looked away. “Jarod should choose.”

“Jarod wants answers more than he wants family.”

Sydney wasn’t nearly so sure of that as Kyle sounded. “He’d have done anything for you.”

“He’d still do anything for you.” There was just a hint of accusation in the words. “Not asking doesn’t mean the power’s not there. Have you ever in your life--” Now the accusation blazed in Kyle’s voice.”--taken a risk? For yourself or for anyone else?”

Sydney knew, looking back over the decades, that he hadn’t. Coming to the United States didn’t count. There hadn’t been anything in Europe, not for him or for Jacob, and The Centre had sponsored so many orphan immigrants right after the war that they’d known-- thought they’d known-- what they were agreeing to. They’d been given citizenship, education, and employment, everything they’d been promised.

But the price was the weight of The Centre’s secrets, The Centre’s sins. The price was Jacob. The price was Jarod. The price was Miss Parker.

The price was Sydney’s own soul.

“You haven’t quite paid that yet.” Kyle’s words were very quiet. “Is anything they gave you worth that? Is everything they gave you worth that?”

Kyle, Sydney decided, knew entirely too much about him and his thoughts. “You have to be an hallucination.”

“Would that mean I was wrong?”

When Sydney realized that he was alone again, he picked up his glass. “No, it would mean I already knew that you were right.” He downed this glass as rapidly as the first. He knew what he should do. He’d always known. 

He just didn’t know what he _would_ do.

Morning would be time enough for decisions.

**Author's Note:**

> When I started this, I was leaning toward actual ghosts, but, by the time I got to the end, I realized that this all needed to be internal to Sydney even if he was interacting with something he thought was separate from himself. Jacob and Catherine wouldn't work quite right, but it made sense for him to try them first. Neither of them ever forced him to look at what he was doing, what he was choosing. Sydney's subconscious can do just about anything with Kyle because most of what Sydney knows of him is second hand.


End file.
